The Old One-Two
by Lacadiva
Summary: Harvey gets injured in a bar fight. Jessica is there to help tend to his wounds…and finds out why her named partner lost his temper in the first place. Yeah, you guessed it… A little hc/Jarvey-centric verbal sparring and UST.


The Old One-Two

By

Lacadiva

Disclaimer: Aaron Korsh owns it all, along with USA and I mean no disrespect. I just want to be Jessica Pearson when I grow up.

 _Summary: Harvey gets into a bar fight. Jessica is there to help tend to his wounds… and find out why her named partner lost his temper in the first place. Yeah, you guessed it… A little hc/Jarvey-centric verbal sparring and UST._

~SUITS~

" _Ow…"_

Jessica's head tilted slightly to the side. She'd thought she heard something earlier but assumed it was a member of the night cleaning crew. Had one of them bumped a knee or a funny bone, somehow injured themselves? Did they need help?

It was late in the evening, almost midnight. She should have left for home once her work was done. Exhaustion kept her on her quite comfortable couch, and the undisturbed silence – the absence of ringing phones and intermittent interruptions – made it difficult to want to leave her office. Indeed, this place was a refuge, almost as comfortable as home under circumstances such as these. Almost.

She'd made herself a cup of tea, removed her Monolo's, put her feet up on her couch and took in the dream-inducing visage of the city at night outside her ample window. After a couple hours winding down, she called for her car and prepared to leave.

As she packed her brief case, she heard the elevator "ding" as it opened and assumed it was the more cleaning crew or security. She heard none of the sounds she associated with their presence, but thought little of it as she dropped the last set of files into her case and slipped into her coat.

Now, standing at the elevator, poised to press the down button, she found herself curiosity wanting to seek out the injured party, investigate the situation, see if help was needed.

Then she noticed the voice she heard had come from Harvey's office.

Hadn't he gone out to celebrate their firm's latest victory? He had landed a client, not a big fish but a big blue whale, and big for them in court. Why would he come back to the office now unless…

 _Something had gone wrong_.

Jessica decided to check things out and made tracks to Harvey's office.

~S~

He was sitting in his chair, facing the window, his back to the glass door.

He saw the dim reflection of Jessica heading his way and prepared himself for the dressing down he was about to receive for his conduct.

Her reflection opened the door and stood before his desk for a few uncomfortable, silent beats before:

"Harvey? What are you doing here?" she asked.

"It's my office."

"I know that. But why are you here _now_? Too much celebrating? Couldn't make it all the way home?"

"You could say that."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Everything's fine. Go home."

"Want a lift?"

"Nope."

She took a step to the side of the desk, staring at Harvey's reflection.

"Harvey…turn around."

He didn't. He wouldn't.

"Harvey…"

He turned the chair slowly, slowly, and kept is eyes averted. He was dreading her reaction. Her disappointment. Her disapproval.

She said nothing, but he did hear the involuntary hiss that escaped through her lips when she saw her partner's horrendous condition. He saw the way she closed her eyes and flinched as if the sight was almost too painful for her to bear.

A dark bruise was blossoming on his left check, just under his partially swollen eye. His lip was split and swollen, and there were still-drying droplets of blood on the front of his very expensive powder blue shirt. His hair, usually coifed to an almost surreal perfection was a little flat and a touch oily.

But it was his hands that concerned her the most at the moment. His knuckles were painfully red-raw from obviously pummeling his opponent.

"It looks worse than it is," he said, deadpan as ever.

"I should see the other guy, right?"

She quickly assessed Harvey's condition with her uber-expressive, uber-observant brown eyes, then sat her bag and brief case upon the couch. Next, she slipped out of her coat and left his office on some unspoken mission.

Harvey tried to stand and remembered why he was still sitting, why he came to the office rather than gone home. He rapped an arm around his aching side for support and slowly sat back down. This was not good. But there was no need to bother Jessica with it. He could handle it. He'd get checked out in the morning if the pain was more than Ibuprofen could handle.

Jessica returned a few beats later with a handful of damp and dry bathroom towels, a ice pack from the break room freezer, and a serious scowl.

She moved to where he sat and perched herself on the edge of his desk. She handed Harvey a wad of the damp towels, which he accepted with irritation and touched it to his lip.

"Ow…"

Jessica took the damp towel back and attempted to help.

"OW!" he cried louder.

"Don't be such a baby."

"Excuse me?"

"You don't get to have an attitude without telling me what the hell happened to you. So… You want to tell me what the hell happened to you?"

"What does it look like?"

"Like you got into a bar fight."

"It wasn't a bar fight. It started in the bar. Then we took it outside."

"Sounds disgustingly macho. So you got into a street fight."

"No…there was an alley…"

"It just keeps getting better. So…what could possibly make Harvey Spector ruin a good suit, or his prize possession…his face?"

Harvey remained quiet, but looked down at the fleshy pulp atop his knuckles and remembered every blow he delivered. It still was not enough to assuage his still simmering anger and indignation.

"It must've been one hell of an insult," said Jessica.

"It was a stupid misunderstanding," he said, not wanting to discuss it further. In his mind, the less she knew, the better.

"Harvey…" She put a hand on her hip and stared him down. "Misunderstandings don't usually end in fisticuffs. I need to know why my senior partner is rolling people in the alley after hours, and if this is going to wash up on my beach later."

Harvey repositioned himself in his chair, trying to not to give away how battered his body felt.

"You've got nothing to worry about. He won't press charges. There weren't any witnesses. Believe me, he's not going to cause any more trouble."

"Did you kill him?"

"I humiliated him. That was enough."

Jessica took a deep, frustrated breath as Harvey slowly spun back around to avoid her gaze.

"He said some things about the firm," he offered.

"So?"

"They weren't true."

"Never made you knock someone's block off before."

"Yeah, well, you weren't there."

"So tell me what I missed. And who is this mysterious offender?"

"You're not gonna let this go, are you?"

Jessica smiled and shook her head.

"Not on your life."

Harvey took the blood splotched moist towel from Jessica and held it to his lip. It was cool and soothing, but also made the wound sting from deep inside his lip.

"We were all celebrating. I'd just bought another round for gang. Donna stepped away and as she was returning, there was some jerk from…"

Harvey stopped himself. Best he not reveal the name of the public agency, or the name of the offender who caused the mess. Even though Harvey knew the man deserved to lose his job over this, he would never want to make public – in court or in the press – what he'd done to deserve Harvey's ire.

"Doesn't matter where he's from," he said and continued. "He accosted Donna and talked a little smack and generally made a jerk of himself."

"So you hit him?"

"No. I made a joke, we had a laugh, I bought him a drink, escorted Donna back to our table and things seemed to simmer down. For the moment."

Jessica crossed her arms, waiting not so patiently for the rest.

"Then the guy started getting loud. He was hanging out with some of his buddies at the bar. They were egging him on, and I guess he wanted to show off a little. So he starts ragging on Pearson Spector, brings up a few of our less than savory old stories, you know…"

"So then you hit him?"

"No. I'd heard worse. I've said worse."

"Harvey…"

"I'm getting to it…"

He paused, giving careful consideration to his words. This was the part that ignited the rage within him.

"He made a crack about you…"

"What was the crack?"

"It doesn't matter, Jessica…"

"It must've mattered to you. What did he say?"

Harvey looked her dead in the eyes and knew…he could lie. He could make something up, spare her feelings. Lie.

And she would probably know it.

He tapped the damp towel to his bloody knuckles and the pain sent a new rage coursing through him.

"It was a racial slur."

"Which racial slur?"

" _The_ racial slur."

"You mean…"

"That's the one."

"And then you hit him."

"Well, no. Not right away."

"That wasn't enough? Hell, I would've hit him!"

"It was enough Jessica, but…it was what he said after…"

"Go on."

"About…us."

"Us?"

"Yes."

"As in, you and me?"

"Yeah."

"Together?"

He nodded.

"There is no us."

"I know that. You know that. But word on the street is…"

"Word on the street? There's word on the street? About _us_?"

"If it's any consolation, it's not all bad. Some of it's kinda…hot."

"Harvey…"

"I can't control what people say or think."

"No, you just hit them!"

Jessica stood and stepped away, pacing the floor the way she would after a difficult day in court.

"So about this _word on the street_ …"

"What do I have to do, draw you a picture?"

"Please don't."

She drew in a deep breath, keeping calm, keeping her head about her.

"So that's when you hit him."

"Yeah. That was when I gave him the old one-two."

"The old one-two... Enough with the rope-a-dope, Harvey. It's been long night, I'm exhausted, and you probably need to get to an urgent care facility…"

"I'm fine."

"I want you to get checked out anyway. And you're going to. You're sweating, and you're starting to look pale. And your knuckles need serious attention. Now…" she said, and strode back to where Harvey sat.

Each step was fluid, graceful, adamant, determined. This was her courtroom strut, Harvey mused; her closing argument tango. This was pure Jessica. And he loved it. He let slip a smile and paid for it when he felt his split lip split a bit more.

"Tell me what he said, or I will march right over to that bar and get the story myself."

"Better hurry. It's almost last call."

" _Now,_ Harvey."

"I don't want to."

She nearly laughed at the petulance of his voice.

"You want to know what he said? Okay…Take the three worse things anyone's ever said about you your entire life, roll them up in to one big ball of crap and stick a couple vicious, misogynistic, racist stereotypes on top like big red bows, and you can figure out why he's sitting in New York Presbyterian's ER getting his broken nose stuffed with cotton balls. People can say what the hell they want to say about me, Jessica, you know I couldn't give a…"

"Harvey…"

"…I'm not finished!" he cried, trying to stand, holding on to his side, feeling his whole body tremble as pain immediately reminded him that something was terribly wrong.

"I draw the line when it comes to you."

His conviction was strong, but his voice faltered. His breath was shallow. And the pain was far worse than when he'd first arrived. That was when he knew he was in some trouble, and muttered a curse under his breath. He eased himself back down into the chair, still determined somehow not to let on to Jessica what was going on with him.

Jessica was immediately by his side.

"Pull your shirt up," she demanded.

"What?"

When he did not moved, she reached for his shirt and gently pulled it up from his waistband, then higher to reveal the multicolored splotch that was just beginning to spread along his rib cage.

"Easy, easy…" he whispered, trying to breathe.

The bruising gave her pause to utter a curse. She reached out to touch the damaged area gently with the tips of her fingers, to see how Harvey reacted, test the severity of the injury.

"HEY!" he cried, nearly jumping out of his chair. "Please…don't do that again," he said breathlessly, sweat breaking out anew on his forehead.

"I'm calling an ambulance."

"No ambulance! I can walk. I'll get a cab and go to urgent care. Happy?"

"No. I have a car waiting downstairs. I'm taking you!"

"I don't need you to take me, Jessica. I'm a big boy."

"Big boys don't get into playground fights over a few stupid insults!"

"They do when it involves someone they care about!"

The silence in the room was overwhelming. The pain in Harvey's side paled in comparison to the meteoric rise of tension in the room. He wished he could take those words back, but some part of him was glad he actually said it.

Jessica said nothing. At least not verbally. Her eyes usually communicated everything. But not this time. He was confused.

She went to Harvey's side and reached for him. He supported himself with hands on her shoulders, and he stood. They remained for just a moment, a beat; the time it takes to blink, or draw a breath. But the impropriety of the moment made it difficult for either of them to maintain eye contact.

When Harvey realized she was simply helping him to his feet…

 _Oh._

…he fought to let go of his embarrassment and let his hands fall away from her.

Jessica pulled away, reaching for Harvey's coat, then draped it over his shoulders. He was grateful, because attempting to slip his arms inside the sleeves would have awaken a fresh new pain he was not anxious to experience. No way was he going to let her know how bad it felt.

"Can you make it to the elevator?" she asked.

Harvey said nothing, but attempted to take a step. He closed his eyes, hoping to dredge up the strength it was going to take to make it beyond his glass office door.

Jessica quickly put on her coat, and, grabbing her purse but leaving her brief case behind, she stood at Harvey's side.

"Lean, Harvey," she said. "Just lean on me."

"I'm too heavy."

"Shut up and lean."

He placed an arm – slowly, fighting the pain it caused – around her shoulder, and clung to her for dear life. She was literally the only thing keeping him stable on and his feet.

Together they maneuvered to the door, made their way to the elevator, into the car, and to the street where Jessica's car and Driver sat waiting. The Driver raced out to open the doors for them and help Harvey inside. In seconds they were flowing through nighttime traffic towards Manhattan Urgent Care.

Harvey leaned back and closed his eyes, resting his mind, resting his body, and hoping that this would dissuade Jessica from continuing her interrogation.

He peeked through one eye and caught her staring out of the dark tinted side window, as if counting street lights, as they drove by. She turned and caught him in the midst of his spying.

"Jessica, I'm sorry," he said. "I should've put it in check. My temper. You don't have to stick around while I'm getting checked out."

"And how will you get home?"

"I'll take a cab."

"Harvey Spector, in a cab? Someone might see you."

"Do I really come off that shallow?"

She smiled and turned back to counting lights.

"I'm not sorry," he said, breaking the moment of silence.

He reached over, found her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"What I did tonight," he said, a little breathlessly, "I'd do again. In a heart beat."

She raced through a lifetime of memories and could not access a single one that included someone fighting for her honor. Hm… She made a note of it and smiled.

"Harvey Spector," she said jovially, almost mockingly, "knight in shining armor."

"Not too shiny," he said, and closed his eyes.

End of the matter.

She imagined what would happen, good or bad, if she punctuated the moment by resting her weary head against his shoulder. The urge was strong, but experience had taught her way too much to ever reveal her vulnerable heart.

At least, not right now.

"Just duck next time," she said instead, and left the matter in her heart to be settled another day.

End

 _Hope you enjoyed this little Jarvey-istic_ _tête à tête. If it moved you in anyway, I hope you will review. I'll do more Jarvey if I know there's an audience for it. Please recommend it, too, if you think it's worth it. My gratitude._


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